An Unusual Story


The 479-word story consists only of words beginning with a 'W' and only 17
of those words are hyphenated compounds.

'Warm weather, Walter! Welcome warm weather! We were wishing winter would
wane, weren't we?'

'We were well wearied with waiting,' whispered Waiter wearily. Wan,white,
woe-begone was Walter; wayward, willful, worn with weakness, wasted, waxing
weaker whenever winter's wild, withering winds were wailing. Wholly without
waywardness was Winifred, Walter's wise, womanly watcher, who, with winsome,
wooing way, was well-beloved.

'We won't wait, Walter; while weather's warm we'll wander where woodlands
wave, won't we?'

Walter's wanton wretchedness wholly waned. 'Why, Winnie, we'll walk where we
went when we were with Willie; we'll weave wildflower wreaths, watch woodmen
working; woodlice, worms wriggling; windmills whirling; watermills wheeling;
we will win wild whortleberries, witness wheat winnowed.'

Wisbeach woods were wild with wildflowers; warm, westerly winds whispered
where willows were waving; wood-pigeons, wrens, woodpeckers were warbling
wild woodnotes. Where Wisbeach water-mill's waters, which were wholly
waveless, widened, were waterlilies, waxen white. Winifred wove wreaths with
woodbine, whitehorn, wallflowers; whilst Walter whittled wooden wedges with
willow wands.

Wholly without warning, wild wet winds woke within Wisbeach woods, whistling
where Winifred wandered with Walter; weeping willows were wailing weirdly;
waging war with wind-tossed waters. Winifred's wary watchfulness waked.

'Walter, we won't wait.'

'Which way, Winnie?'

Winifred wavered. 'Why, where were we wandering? Wisbeach woods widen
whichever way we walk. Where's Wisbeach white wicket, where's Winston's
water-mill?'

WistfuIly, Walter witnessed Winifred's wonder. 'Winnie, Winnie, we were
wrong, wholly wrong; wandering within wild ways. Wayfaring weather-beaten
waifs, well-nigh worn-out.'

Winifred waited where, within wattled woodwork walls, wagons, wheelbarrows,
wains were waiting, weighty with withered wood. Walter, warmly wrapped with
Winifred's well-worn wadded waterproof, was wailing woefully, wholly
wearied. Winnie, who, worn with watching, well-nigh weeping, was wistfully,
wakefully waiting Willie's well-known whistle, wholly wished Walter's
well-being warranted.

With well-timed wisdom, Walter was wound with wide,worsted wrappers, which
wonderfully well withstood winter's withering, whistling winds. Wholly
without warm wrappers was Winifred, who, with womanly wisdom, was watching
Walter's welfare, warding Walter's weakness.

'When will Willie wend where we wait?' wearily wondered Walter.

'Whist, Walter,' whispered Winnie, 'who was whooping?'

'Whereabouts?'

Welcome whistling was waking Wisbeach woods when winter's windy warfare
waxed weaker.

'Winnie! Walter!'

Winifred's wakefulness was well-grounded. 'We're well, Willie; we're where
Winston's wagons wait.' Without waiting, Willie was within Winston's
woodwork walls.

'Welcome, welcome, Willie.' Winnie was weeping with weariness with watching
Walter, weak with wayfaring.

'Why Winnie! Wise, watchful, warm-hearted Winnie,' Willie whispered
wheedlingly. 'We won't weep; Walter's well. What was Walter without Winnie?'

Wholly wonderful was Winifred's well-timed womanly wisdom, which well
warranted weakly Walter's welfare. Whenever wandering within Wisbeach woods
with Winnie, Walter would whisper, 'What was Walter without Winnie? Wise,
watchful, warm-hearted Winnie!'

posted by Sandip at 8:35 PM

 
IF....

By Rudyard Kipling


If you can keep your head when all about you
are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
but make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
or being hated, don't give way to hating,
and yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream-and not make dreams your master,
if you can think-and not make thoughts your aim;
if you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
and treat those two impostors just the same;
if you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
and stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
and lose, and start again at your beginnings
and never breathe a word about your loss;
if you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
to serve your turn long after they are gone,
and so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
or walk with kings-nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
if all men count with you, but none too much,
if you can fill the unforgiving minute
with sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And-which is more-you'll be a Man, my son!

posted by Sandip at 8:35 PM